


Two Lines

by heartbash



Category: Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Post-Series, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:14:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24188740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartbash/pseuds/heartbash
Summary: “I’m pregnant,” she says, casting the words violently into reality. And just like that, their lives are changed forever.
Relationships: Rebecca Bunch/Nathaniel Plimpton
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	Two Lines

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eyesontheskyline](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyesontheskyline/gifts).



Warmth, glowing and beautiful, spreads from Rebecca’s heart center up her neck to flush her cheeks. Her stomach flips with promise. And nerves. Lots of nerves. 

She watches her reflection in the bathroom mirror as she sucks in and releases a heavy breath, her chest slowly rising and falling. Dark circles rim her eyes and she hasn't been able to keep food down in roughly two weeks – ironically, she’s adamant she’s _lost_ weight – yet she feels more vital, more alive than ever.

Clutching the flimsy pieces of plastic that will determine the rest of their lives, she joins Nathaniel in the living room. His eyebrows lift expectedly when she enters, a myriad of emotions – anticipation, hope, concern – swirling around in his eyes. 

She sits next to him on the couch, gingerly lining up the objects in a meticulous row on the coffee table. He drapes his arm around the back of the couch, hovering around her shoulders.

“I think it could work this time,” she says softly. 

His smile is cautiously optimistic as his eyes dart to the table and then back to her.

“Either that or I have a very strange case of the flu that makes your boobs rock hard,” she adds with a scoff, tenderly cupping each of her breasts for emphasis.

He tries to laugh, but it comes out as a shaky huff. Running his fingers through her hair, he attempts his own joke to break the tension, “We can keep trying. I suppose I can make that sacrifice.”

The corners of her mouth quirk up but she doesn’t humor him with a laugh. Her mouth forms an o-shape as she exhales, rubbing her sweaty palms together. “This is big,” she says. 

“Do you think we’re ready?”

That makes her crack a smile and she laughs, outloud this time. “I have no fucking idea.”

He untangles his arm from the couch and leans forward. His wedding band catches the light flooding in from the window like a beacon as he leans forward to pick up each of the three tests in succession. 

Two lines.

Two lines.

Two distinct, baby pink lines.

Despite the fact she suspected as much, she gasps sharply and feels a flutter, two delicate butterfly wings beating in her stomach.

“Wow,” he breathes, his voice catching in his throat.

“I’m pregnant,” she says, casting the words violently into reality. And just like that, their lives are changed forever.

“We’re pregnant,” she repeats, turning suddenly to face him on the couch. His eyes are wide, glassy, shining so full of emotion. He is going to cry and it’s utterly unfair because she’s the one who’s pregnant, damn it. How dare he fall over the emotional precipice when he’s the one who’s supposed to be anchoring the ship of this moment.

Hooking her leg over him, she drags herself squarely into his lap and begins touching his face all over, cooing, “Oh no, oh no. Don’t start. You cannot start crying.”

A tear forms in the corner of his eye, a daring objection to her warnings, and she kisses the spot with a wet smacking noise. He hugs her then, pulling her snug against his chest and tucking his nose into the crook of her neck.

“I hope it’s happy tears,” she jokes. In lieu of a verbal response, he holds her even tighter, rubbing his hands up and down her back.

In her mind’s eye she suddenly sees, as if through a blurry camera lense, Nathaniel’s face at the open mic on Valentine’s Day. His beaming, proud, happy face cut through the crowd that night the same way it’s intrusively invading her thoughts now. The image asserts itself, pushy and demanding, to the forefront of her mind until she has to shake her head to push it away. She wants to be in _this_ moment, right now. This is a moment she wants to stretch forever.

The sound of his sniffle finally jolts her back to reality, and she sits back on his thighs. The wave of emotion has passed for him and he seems content now to resume normal banter.

“My body’s going to change, you know,” she says to lighten the mood. “If I ever get my appetite back, I’m no-holds-barred on indulging my cravings. I’m gonna get huge and I make no apologies for it.”

His eyes drop to her abdomen. 

She snorts. “I mean, not now. It’s probably the size of a coffee bean or something.”

“I love you,” he says, so softly, so gently it’s barely audible. Then, he clears his throat, saying louder, “And this coffee bean.”

“Me too.”

Gripping his neck, she kisses him fiercely, scooting as close to him as she can, so close their bodies meld into one glowing, vibrating mess of limbs. Again, she feels the warmth unfurling in her chest, extending out to the tips of her fingers, up to burn her ears. The edges of her vision start to blur and fuzz out and she’s grasping at his image as it floats through her fingers until –

She jolts up, awake. The only thing she’s holding is a half-empty plastic bottle with a green smoothie. The warmth is gone, replaced by the cold porcelain of the toilet beneath her and the cold tiles of the bathroom that surround her.

“Damn it,” she groans, “I really gotta stop drinking these.” She twists the cap back on the bottle and throws it at the bathroom wall. 

She flushes and washes her hands at the sink. Gazing back at her reflection in the mirror, she notices her cheeks are a rosy pink, her skin glowing.

“It’s just a dream,” she says to mirror Rebecca as she rubs the soap over her hands and between her fingers. “It’s just a dumb fantasy my mind concocted to taunt me.”

She shuts off the faucet and dries her hands, all the while Nathaniel’s face at the open mic again rears its, admittedly, very attractive head.

“Sure,” she says to her reflection in the mirror, “it was great to see him at the show. And maybe he looked extra attractive and tan and happy and proud of me and like the only person I could see in the room. And maybe I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him. And maybe I missed him a little bit while he was gone and wonder what his whole deal is now. Innocent curiosity, that’s all.”

She frowns at her image, unconvinced.

“I know you’re going to say it’s a sign, but signs aren’t real!” she argues with herself. “And it’s not like you’re ready for marriage, let alone a baby, any time in the near future. Or maybe ever! It was just a harmless dream that means nothing.”

As she stares at her reflection, she can’t shake off how the dream made her feel – all cozy and safe and happy. The memory of his face when he said _I love you_ makes her heart ache with want. 

Impulsivity flowing through her, she unlocks her phone and opens her contacts to Nathaniel’s phone number. For several moments, she stares at his name, her mind conjuring sensory details of the dream until she can almost feel his nose nuzzling her neck. 

“It’s just a conversation,” she says to mirror Rebecca, defensively, before finally dialing his number. 

As she presses the phone to her ear, her heart leaping with anticipation over whether he’ll answer, she says to the mirror, honestly now, “I think it could work this time.”

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday, @eyesontheskyline!!!
> 
> Thanks to @pictureofsoph1sticatedgrace and @WhatTheElle for giving it a read-over!


End file.
